Adaptation
by N7angel
Summary: Grammaton Cleric Alice Corvin ceased taking her Prozium and learned to adapt to survive and protect her friends whilst remaining the protege of Cleric John Preston. But when he too stops taking his injections, both are thrust headfirst into the growing conflict where they will either become heroes if they win or condemn their fellow Sense Offenders if they fail ... John Preston/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Equilibrium**_** is one of my favorite movies by far, and I just had to write a fanfic about it. This takes place a days before the film and will continue to through to the end of the film and possible beyond into my version of the sequel. There are some major changes I've made to the film, however, one of which is that I've added an OC named Alice Corvin. She's a Grammaton Cleric and the protege of John Preston, who has ceased taking her dose long before him and his partner. Eventually it will be John Preston/OC, but that comes later.**_

_**If updates take a while at any point, please note that I am working on a number of other stories as well as work ten hours Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays and am on call throughout the rest of the week. I make time to write as much as I can, but life gets in the way a lot. The time-frame of the movie is changed a bit as well, instead of taking place over the course of a week or less, it takes place in a two week or so time-frame so that I can include some extra scenes without running into the events of the movie unrealistically.**_

_**And this chapter is more or less a prologue of sorts, so plan on the following chapters being longer.  
**_

**Rating: **_**M for just about everything in the book.**_

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own **_**Equilibrium**_**.**_

* * *

The first time Alice Corvin felt, she was nineteen-years-old.

One day, she noticed her parents acting strangely. Though the emotion was one that she'd never felt, she recognized the expression on their faces because she'd seen it on the faces of the Sense Offenders she'd helped take into custody on many occasions. The expression on their faces was that of love. Her father and mother were in loved, and it was a serious crime. If Martin and Julia Corvin were in love, they were feeling. If they were feeling, they'd ceased taking their Prozium. If they ceased taking their Prozium, they were Sense Offenders.

As a rising Grammaton Cleric – one of the few women in the prestigious arm of law enforcement – she had no choice but to report them and take them into custody to be punished for their crimes.

Before she could act, however, her father spotted her out of the corner of his eye and hastily grabbed her to prevent her from leaving while her mother begged her not to speak a word of what she saw to her mentor, high ranking Cleric John Preston. If Alice told him of what she'd witnessed, her parents would be executed.

There should have been no hesitation on her part. Ever since she was a young child she'd been trained in the monastery in various forms of deadly martial arts and gun fighting, as well as taught how to always be on the lookout for EC-10 materials and sense offenders. If she came across anyone in violation of the law, she was to expose them at once. She took an oath when she became a Cleric, and though she was still learning and had a long way to go before she was as good as John Preston and his partner Errol Partridge, she knew better than to let such offenses go unpunished. Emotion led to war, poverty, and a menagerie of other negative things, and yet… she hesitated.

She hesitated long enough for her mother to knock her over the head with a sturdy metal pan and send her into unconsciousness. When she came to hours later it was long passed the time to take another dosage, and by then the effects of being off it had already begun to take hold of her and she recalled all the things she'd done. She'd killed men, women, and children for feeling, for owning EC-10 material.

The first time Alice felt, she felt guilty.

Her parents apologized for the deception and for hitting her over the head, but insisted that feeling was the only way to be truly free and that without emotion they were nothing more than mindless husks. As it was late at night, she'd had to wait until morning to get another dose seeing as her parents flushed hers down the toilet, but by then they'd exposed her to music and literature and art. By the time she was able to get another dosage, she didn't want it.

It was difficult to hide her new-found emotions from John, but she managed to hide them very well to the point where she could make herself believe that she wasn't a Sense Offender at all. A friend she made amongst the rebels informed her that in order to project the perfect lie, she had to believe the lie as well.

And so she made herself believe the lie in public. She killed rebels – some of which were her friends – and she maintained her stoic manner so as not to give John reason to shoot her.

That was five years ago, and she still cried when she got home when the wave of emotions came flooding over the wall she built around her heart. In her home, she could be herself – caring and compassionate – though she always had to keep an eye out for anything that might be considered EC-10. All her illegal possessions were in an abandoned house deep in the Nether which she visited whenever she could sneak away, but she did allow herself one illegal item; a family photo where she was being embraced by her parents, taken three years ago, where days later her parents were caught, 'tried', and executed for Sense Offense.

To watch them be burned alive and remain neutral damn near killed her, but as she stood beside John she didn't show her pain. Her mentor had the odd ability to sense when one was feeling, to put himself in a Sense Offender's shoes, as he put it. He'd already allowed his wife to be executed, so she doubted he would go easy on her.

Viviana Preston had been Alice's friend, and neither understood how he'd missed her obvious Sense Offense. Alice suggested that maybe he loved her to some degree, but Viviana was adamant that he didn't love her because she – a Sense Offender – didn't even love him. She cared about her husband, but there was no love to be seen. Alice understood what she meant. Marriages were not based on love, but necessity and the need to keep the population growing, and spouses were chosen based off a compatibility of genetics. Even marriage had been made scientific and conformed, and it had to be organized and permitted by the high council and Father. If a man and a woman were suspected of having a 'romantic' relationship without approval they were tried and executed. Dating to find a soul mate was unheard of.

Prior to her death, Viviana begged her to watch out for her children and to try to help John see the truth of emotion. The only reason she'd asked Alice to do such things was because she trusted her to be there for her children, and knew that John trusted her without question. If anyone could change him it would either be Alice or a dumb mistake. No one else and no other reason could change him. But while Alice promised to watch after the children, she couldn't promise to help John. She believed that anyone could change, but she highly doubted that he could. Even for a Cleric, he was ruthless.

After the death of their mother, Robbie – John and Viviana's son – confessed to her that both he and his little sister Lisa stopped taking their Prozium before collapsing into her arms in a fit of tears. It broke her heart to see them so broken, but she was firm in telling them that they couldn't allow their father to know that they were Sense Offenders. Robbie understood and went so far to keep John in the dark as to work towards becoming a Cleric as well. Lisa had a harder time, being as she was so young, but Robbie kept her in line so she never too worried about their safety.

But even as she sat in the safe house of one of the rebel groups, painting her nails red, she found herself worrying. They weren't her children and it had been roughly a year since Viviana's death, but she worried like a mother should.

"Awful risky, painting your nails."

Alice smiled faintly, blowing on her freshly painted nails before looking up at Errol Partridge, John's faithful partner. "I don't exactly intend on walking home with red nails, Partridge," she assured him. Without looking up, she then asked, "What about you? Do you plan on taking those photos with you to headquarters?"

Only three months had passed since Partridge stopped taking his injections and he was still learning to hide. Unfortunately, he often made mistakes that she had to then clean up before John was alerted. While she allowed herself to hold onto one photo, she kept it hidden away in her home. Partridge, however, tended to carry his precious items on his person.

The man sighed and reached into his breast pocket to retrieve the slender tin case that held his photos. "I need… something," he explained quietly. "Something to remind me that I'm human."

"You'll always have something reminding you. They're called your feelings."

"Yes, but holding a photo, looking at the image of the one you love…" he trailed off, looking at the photo of himself and Mary O'Brian, gently running his fingers down the photo before looking back to her and noticing that she was already removing the nail polish. "I'll never understand how you do it."

"Do what?" she inquired, making sure that no trace of red remained.

"What you're doing now, wiping off that nail polish like it means nothing. Or how you can just act like one of _them_."

By them, he meant the Grammaton Cleric.

She sighed. "Because I am one of them, Errol. And so are you. When in the public's eye, we are as emotionless as everyone else for our own safety and the safety of those around us. I don't deny that it hurts to bottle it all up, but there will come a time when we don't have to hide anymore," she explain gently, reaching over to place her hand comfortingly over his. "One day we won't have to wear our masks, my friend. You'll see."

Partridge snorted, sticking the photos back in their case, and said, "If Preston has his way, we'll all be dead before we see that day."

"If you keep thinking that, then we definitely will be," she snapped. "By carrying those photos everywhere and taking items from scenes you are practically telling John you're a Sense Offender. You have to suppress your emotions."

"I've suppressed them long enough," he sighed, but raised his hand to silence her when she opened her mouth and added, "I'll try harder, I promise."

Alice knew he would try, but she wasn't sure he could.

Tired of the frequently repeated argument, she went to an intricate mirror and pulled her elbow length blond hair up into a simple yet intricate bun low on her head, assuming conformity. In this day and age, women either had their hair cut incredibly short or wore it up constantly. It was a miracle that she'd been accepted into the Grammaton Cleric since women typically weren't permitted. But John had seen something in her, and even though he'd been just a young boy at the time he was already highly respected, as was his opinion. He essentially took her under his wing and helped train her to be the best. Because he was five years older than she, he was ahead of her career wise, but with his help she caught up to him and was nearly as good as he was.

Now she worked alongside John and Partridge so he could groom her into becoming a first class Cleric. Despite how much she hated killing rebels and burning EC-10 objects, the three of them made an excellent team, and she and John had a unique relationship. They trusted each other and knew each other better than anyone else. Hell, she was the only individual she allowed in his home to visit his children. More and more she found herself wondering how he couldn't see that she was a Sense Offender. Maybe a part of him was in denial.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she watched in sorrow as the blank mask slid over her delicate features, transforming her into the respected Cleric that she was known to be.

Mary and Jurgen appeared in the mirror as they entered the room, and Mary shuddered. "It's creepy how easily you can fall back into that routine," she commented and stepped into the waiting arms of her lover. Unlike Alice, Partridge still had a good hour to go before he had to leave.

Alice would never say it out loud, but she envied the two for the love they had just as she'd envied her parents. She didn't know that kind of love, and she doubted she would live that long to find it. She could tell Partridge that the day would come when they could shed their masks, but she never could make herself believe it fully.

With one last look at herself, she bid Jurgen and her friends goodbye before she left the safe house and returned to the lie she lived.

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_**Reviews are welcomed. In fact, they're encouraged!**_


	2. Chapter 2

It had been another long day of snuffing out Sense Offenders, but despite how tired he was, Cleric John Preston still had much to do.

The recent raid on a Sense Offender's house had provided them with evidence that there was a large accumulation of art somewhere in the Nether. The man whom they arrested had dozens of art pieces in his possession, hidden in a secret compartment in his dresser, along letters he'd received from the group he got the art from. Somewhere in the Nether, the Resistance was holding countless pieces of art and giving them to citizens in Libria.

John sighed, staring at the data he'd collected and organized on his computer. If there was a pattern, he couldn't find it. The letters had chemicals and dirt on them that corresponded with a variety of sights in the Nether, making it impossible to pinpoint their origin with forensics. Whoever had sent them was smart and knew how to cover their tracks. Perhaps, too smart. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that someone in the Grammaton was a Sense Offender. That was highly unlikely, however, if not entirely impossible. If there was a traitor amongst their ranks, he would know.

But then… he hadn't known his wife was a Sense Offender until the police broke down his door and shoved the fact into his face. He didn't understand how he couldn't have known. He shared a home with the woman and two children, he more than anyone should have noticed the change. He didn't, though, never even speculated. For a while he assumed that his skills were becoming rusty, but threw that thought out the window after a while. His ability to locate Sense Offenders and their EC-10 material was sharper than ever. That left him with a question he had no answer to.

Why didn't he see the signs that Viviana was a Sense Offender?

Many times he'd been asked by others, and every time the answer was the same. He didn't know.

Unwilling to make such a mistake again, he thought long and hard about each and every Cleric he knew if only to discover some clue as to whether or not there was a traitor. His thoughts immediately turned to Partridge, his partner of two years.

Partridge had been as logical as every other Cleric at first, but a few months ago he started changed. He sweated more when they went on raids, fidgeted when they spoke of eradicating all EC-10 material. But just when he thought that Partridge might be a Sense Offender, their watches signaled the time for another injection and he would witness his partner injecting himself with the Prozium. Perhaps his partner wasn't a Sense Offender and merely needed his dosage adjusted. It wasn't unheard of for an individual to become a bit tolerant of the drug and in turn need it adjusted.

Scratching Partridge off the list of possible traitors for the time being, his mind traveled to his young protege, Alice Corvin.

Since meeting her when he was a mere student in the monastery he'd sensed something about her that made her stand out from the others. It was the key reason he'd put in a good word for her to the council. She had and unfaltering loyalty to Libria and Father that matched his own loyalty, and was very intuitive and smart. Being a quick learner as well, it hadn't taken her long to catch up to him despite the age difference. She was a valuable asset to the Grammaton and he trusted no one more than he trusted her, but he'd be lying if he said she hadn't given him pause on occasion.

When her parents were incinerated, he'd seen her jaw clench in what he suspected was sorrow and anger. When they killed rebels, she always hesitated for a fraction of a second. When they destroyed EC-10 materials, she cringed. When she spoke to him, the corners of her lips would turn up the faintest of smiles. The signs were there that she was a Sense Offender, but he refused to believe it. At the moment, all he had were theories and she always seemed to prove him wrong in regards to his theories. Though she cringed and hesitated and smiled, her tone remained as monotone as ever and he'd witnessed her kill rebels. If she was a Sense Offender would she be able to hide her emotions and kill others like her?

"Is there something on your mind, Preston?" asked the very woman he was thinking about.

Looking up from the screen of his computer, he stared into her unfeeling dark green eyes as she waited patiently for an answer.

He was over-thinking things, he had to be. He knew Alice better than anyone. She wouldn't betray him by ceasing her Prozium. She wouldn't betray Father.

"Something isn't right with the letters we retrieved from Dan Miller's home," he replied, sitting back in his chair so that she could more easily look at the screen.

Looking at the letters and the list of chemicals and such that had been found by the forensic team, she asked, "What makes you say that?"

"It's both precise and sloppy," he answered. When she stared at him uncertainly, he explained, "Being that it contains traces of a handful of possible sites for the Resistance suggests that someone was intentionally trying to throw us off the trail."

Alice nodded, following him so far. "So the rebels are growing smarter, that's to be expected."

John shook his head and said, "Yes, but something isn't right about how the traces are blended together on the letters and art. Rather than simply being the work of a rebel trying to trip us up, it's as though someone intended for it to be a sloppy contamination. And while it is sloppy, it's also organized. If I'm correct, the rebels are holding the art in the northern sector near the apartments, or the eastern sector near the shopping center."

"So we hit both," she suggested with a shrug. "Pick one and if it turns out to be a bust, we go to the next."

"Too risky."

She frowned. "How so?"

"Given the circumstances of the letters and art, I suspect that a Cleric may be a Sense Offender," John replied, and he kept his hazel eyes locked on her face for the smallest hint that she was feeling.

For a split second, she looked panicked, but the look was gone so fast that he had to wonder if he'd seen it at all.

"If a Cleric has been corrupted, we need to find out who he or she is before they corrupt anyone else," she said after a moment with the utmost certainty. "If a Cleric is feeling, Father and Libria are in danger."

"I couldn't agree more, which is why I want to be absolutely positive of where to go before we make our move," he responded with a brief nod. "The question is, how do we find such a traitor?"

Alice nodded before realizing that he was waiting for her answer to his question which she'd taken to be rhetorical, and he saw uncertainty flash in her eyes as she searched for an answer.

"Put yourself in their place," John instructed, opting to not call her out on her uncertainty. "Being a Cleric, if you were a Sense Offender, what would you do to avoid detection?"

For several seconds, Alice said nothing and he swore that she looked mildly panicked. Against his better judgment, he ignored it. She wasn't accustomed to placing herself in the place of a Sense Offender and so he assumed that she was just struggling with the concept. At least, that's what he hoped.

Licking her lips nervously before catching herself and pulling her tongue back into her mouth, she replied, "If I were a Sense Offender… to avoid detection from fellow Cleric I would venture to the Nether at night when others are asleep, and I would look at illegal content only when alone and when no one is watching. I would struggle to keep up the lie, and despite my best efforts, people would notice. But to avoid drawing attention to myself, I would make sure I was seen taking my intervals as well as show no mercy to the rebels if only to save my own skin."

John stared at her. He was both impressed by her answer as well as a bit shaken. That answer was far more detailed than he'd expected it to be. Either she was merely becoming more intuitive and his skill was rubbing off on her, or she was the traitor.

No, she couldn't be the traitor. If she were, she would not have given him such an answer.

"You're getting better at that," he complimented and was rewarded with that incredibly small smile she only gave to him. It unnerved him.

"I was taught by the best," she commented. Rolling her shoulders, the joints cracking slightly, she added, "Go home and get some sleep." He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but she stopped him. "A Cleric is of no issue if you're fatigued."

He desperately wanted to the heart of the issue, but she was right. Going into the Nether tired, Cleric or not, was a foolish thing to do. Releasing a long breath, he shut down his computer and rose to his feet, pushing in his chair to match the other pushed in chairs perfectly.

Walking side by side, the two Clerics made their way out the doors and to the car waiting. John got into the driver's side and waited for Alice to get into the spot beside him, but she didn't. Instead, she bent down next to his window.

"I'm going to walk home," she explained casually. "The thought of a traitor amongst our ranks is disturbing and I want to try to figure this all out before turning in for the night."

"Weren't you the one who said that we are of no use if fatigued?"

Alice smirked but quickly bit it back. "I'll be all right to work tomorrow, John. Goodnight."

Without another word, Alice took off at a steady pace down the street towards her apartment complex, John staring at her back until she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

She wasn't a traitor, he repeated to himself. She wasn't.

Forcing all thoughts of her being a Sense Offender away, he drove home to his children.

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The moment she was out of sight from watchful eyes, Alice broke into a run to the main access to the Underground in the outskirts of Libria. Any other day she would access the Resistance via a tunnel in the Nether and wouldn't dare using the one in Libria out of fear that she would somehow compromise the Resistance, but this was an emergency.

If John suspected a traitor then they were all in danger.

She cursed herself for not being more careful around him. When it came to others she could keep herself so easily composed, but around him it was difficult. She wanted to be open and honest with him even though she knew that he would arrest her the moment he found out that she was a Sense Offender. And Partridge… she was going to strangle him for not being careful. There was no way that John didn't suspect that one of them was the traitor, and all because of foolish mistakes.

Skidding to a stop outside Freedom Reading, she hurried inside and spotted Paul sitting at his desk. Rather than instruct him to open the hidden door, she did so herself, the action forcing concerned questions from her friend. She ignored him and pressed the button under one of the desks in the room that led to the Underground. She didn't want to frighten anyone but had to run and shove in her haste and thus succeeded in freaking out more than a few people. If she could have walked, she would have, but she had to get to Seamus before he returned to the safe house in the northern apartment complex that he was hiding the paintings in.

To her sheer relief, she found him having a late dinner with a group of his friends and slowed to a fast walk towards him.

Catching her out of the corner of his eye, Seamus looked up at her and smiled in greeting. "Hey, Alice."

"Can we speak privately?" she asked, skipping the pleasantries.

Frowning, he nodded and excused himself from the table and followed her to a vacant room. "What's up?"

Glancing around to make sure they were out of earshot, she said quietly, "John's closing in on where the paintings are being kept."

"How?" Seamus demanded. "I thought you covered our tracks?"

"So did I. There should have been enough contaminants on everything to throw him and forensics off, but he wasn't so easily fooled. I succeeded in making it look like a sloppy mess, but I screwed up somewhere and now he knows that the paintings are in one of two places. My guess, he'll figure out where they are by weeks end if it takes him even that long."

The bearded man braced his hands on the table in front of him, anger radiating off him. "We can't move over one hundred paintings in less than a week, Alice, not anymore, not with how hard the Grammaton is cracking down on us. Can't you stall him? Buy us a few extra days?"

She threw her hands up and leaned back against the desk next to him, and replied tiredly, "I'll do what I can, but I can't keep lying to him."

He gaped at her. "Don't tell me you care about the guy."

Alice felt her cheeks heat up and she turned to look out the window. As far as she was concerned, John was her friend. Of course she cared about him. But she knew that wasn't what Seamus had meant. What he meant indicated feelings beyond that of friendship. He'd brought it up multiple times in the past.

"This has nothing to do with my feelings," she argued. "He suspects that a Cleric is responsible for contaminating the items recently raided, and once he suspects something he typically searches like made for evidence to prove he's right or wrong. He won't stop until he figures it out."

"You think he suspects you?" her friend ask, anger shifting to concern for her safety.

She sighed. "I don't know, maybe. If he does, he's not acting on it."

Seamus snorted and nudged her shoulder with his in a friendly manner. "Maybe if you quit acting like yourself around him, he wouldn't suspect." He was teasing her, she knew that, but she heard the underlined seriousness in his tone.

Everyone in the Resistance knew that when it came to John she had a tendency to lower her mask a fraction. Some thought it was cute, most thought it was disconcerting and dangerous.

"Is Jurgen still around? He should hear about all this."

Shaking his head, he said, "He returned to the surface not long after you left." Seeing her yawn, he clasped his hand over her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Go home, Alice. You look tired."

And she was tired. So tired that she didn't even bother arguing with him and instead gave her goodbyes once again and went back to the surface to head home to get a good night's sleep. But the storm of thoughts raging around in her head, she doubted that sleep would find her easily.

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_**Reviews are welcomed. In fact, they're encouraged!**_


	3. Chapter 3

Almost every day, Alice went to the monastery to hone her hand to hand combat skills. Though not yet as good as John in all the fighting styles presented to the Clerics, her skills were a force to be reckoned with and her instincts were sharp due to constant practice. But she wasn't in the training hall to merely practice. She was there to let loose her pent up emotions and energy. Since learning that John was on the scent of a possible traitor in the Grammaton she hadn't gotten much sleep, her thoughts running rampant in her head. Hitting and kicking at the air allowed her to release the forbidden emotions productively and without alerting her fellow Clerics to her crimes. Typically she preferred to exercise in the morning and evening, but with no raid scheduled and no Sense Offender notifications she took to changing her schedule to work out in the afternoon around two o'clock.

She carefully avoided the few younger Clerics training in the hall with her as she spun in an intricate and graceful circle before jumping to delivering a spinning kick to where an assailant's head would be, and then quickly preformed a handful of other complex moves in a variety of combinations. When it came to hand to hand combat, she was considered a master. John practiced more than she did in a week and was thus the best swordsman and gunman, but she was proud to say that when it came to hand to hand combat she was just a fraction better, and she thanked her friends in the Resistance for it. The Grammaton taught her intricate and physically demanding fighting styles that were close to impossible, but the Resistance took it upon themselves to teach her how to fight dirty in case she were ever discovered and had to fight for her life.

After several minutes of nonstop practice, she finally took a break and walked over to a bench that held her towel and water bottle, taking a long drink. Her long blond hair was in a loose bun and stray tendrils clung to her sweaty forehead and neck. The thick tunic did nothing to help her overheated body and she loosened its collar to release some of the trapped heat.

"Brutal even in practice, I see," said a voice she unfortunately recognized and she bit back a cringe.

Looking up, she saw Cleric Lewis Brandt walking towards her with a less than comforting smile. He was a second class Cleric just like she was, both of them wearing the grey uniforms of their class that set them apart from the third class which wore brown uniforms, and the first class which wore black. He set her on guard whenever she saw him. Something about him put her on edge and she didn't trust him, though the real source of her dislike for him was that his genetics made him a possible husband for her in the future. The council had informed her not too long ago that seeing as she was at the age where she would be considered as a possible spouse that they had begun sorting through men with compatible genetics. Because she was a Cleric, her spousal requirements were more specific, just as John's had been, and she'd been given the list of possible males.

On that list was Brandt, and her stomach had turned at the thought of having to share her body with him.

While he was rather attractive, he was not her type in the slightest. He thought only about his career and moving up to the top at all costs, and he almost seemed to enjoy killing. Prozium blocked all emotions but allowed a small fraction of them to come through, thus giving one a glimpse of what an individual was like. From what she saw in Brandt, he would be even more dangerous if he went off his Prozium and she wouldn't put it past him to go hunting for people to kill if it would get him to the top if he stopped taking the drug.

The exact opposite could be said for John.

John killed when faced with armed assailants and when he had no other choice, and he fought to keep Libria and Father safe. He had a good heart deep down, and she'd wondered more than once about what he would be like if ceased his Prozium. And while Brandt was admittedly attractive, John was at the top of her list when it came to looks. He was muscular but not abundantly so, and his sharp features, dark brown hair, and hazel eyes made her heart flutter. She'd be lying to herself if she said she'd never wished that he could be a possible spouse, but that was out of the question as he wasn't on the list of possible. Besides, she didn't believe in the way marriages worked in Libria. Marriage should be based off of love, not genetics.

Draping the towel over her neck, she said casually, somewhat out of breath, "Brutality is necessary against the Resistance."

"True," he admitted with a nod. "But you act as though you're blowing off steam rather than practicing."

She cringed beneath the surface. He was incredibly intuitive, a trait which always had her steering clear of him.

"There's no reason for me to 'blow off steam', as you put it," she replied and took another drink.

"Of course not." The sarcasm didn't go unnoticed by her.

Forcing her irritation not to show, she asked, "Is there something you need, Brandt?"

The man recalled why he was there and nodded, and said, "I spoke with the council about being placed with a partner. Cleric Preston would likely lead to a high advancement in my career, but seeing as he currently has a partner the council is considering placing me with you. You are after all Preston's protege, and though being partnered with Preston would be better, you are just as decent a placement."

She wasn't sure if it was a compliment or an insult so she took it as neither. "I doubt we will be assigned as partners. As you are aware, I am currently shadowing Preston and Partridge due to the council and Preston's belief that the longer I work with him the better I will become since I am still young."

"Cleric Preston will not always be there to guide you, Corvin," he commented in a low tone that made her pause.

If she didn't know better, she'd say that he meant it as a threat.

"You're absolutely correct," Alice agreed, biting her tongue as she retrieved her water and turned to face him. "But for now, he is and I am thus unable to be your partner. I apologize for the… inconvenience."

Brandt's jaw tensed but he forced out a smile. For such an unfeeling man, he could be so easily pissed off and irritated. Why no one called him out on it was beyond her.

Not even cracking a polite smile, she hurried passed him to shower and change into her uniform. Her time spent in the training hall often lasted for an hour or two, but Brandt had spoiled it for her and succeeded in putting a damper on her day. His irritating presence was the last thing she needed right now.

She turned the shower water cold to cool her temper and braced her hands against the wall, bowing her head, her long hair forming a curtain around her face.

More than anything, Alice wanted to return to the Underground so that she could discuss the progression of John's investigation with Jurgen, but returning only two days after leaving was too risky. She went below Libria to speak with the Resistance leader and her friends regularly but never more than once a week unless there was an emergency, feeling that the risk of being caught was too great. Seeing as she'd already informed Seamus of the problem it was likely that he had discussed it with Jurgen already, so unless there were any new developments or she was summoned down to the Underground by a fellow Sense Offender in Libria she would not return until week's end, no matter how much she wanted to.

She shut off the water after a while and dressed, putting up her hair into its typical, impersonal bun and returned to headquarters to see if John had made any new developments.

Just as she was about to reach headquarters, the alarm went off to alert Libria that it was time to dose yet again. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out her dosage gun and loaded a vial of gold colored liquid into the chamber before placing it against her neck, gritting her teeth when the needle sank into her skin and the liquid shot into her veins. To all eyes, it was Prozium, but in reality it was colored saline that was manufactured and handed out by the Resistance to the Sense Offenders living in Libria. It did little more than sting her neck and it successfully fooled everyone around her.

Pocketing the device, she prepared to walk inside when she was met by Mary and her friend Karla Miles walking down the street towards her.

"Cleric," Mary greeted politely. "May we speak to you for a moment?"

Catching the look in her eyes, Alice nodded and led the two to a vacant walkway so that they could speak more privately. If Karla was with Mary then they must have a message for her from Jurgen, Karla being in the leadership circle with him. Outside the workplace, school, and the Grammaton, men and women socializing was frowned upon, and so Karla was often sent to speak with female Sense Offenders in Libria on Jurgen's behalf.

"What is it?" Alice asked when she was sure they were alone.

Karla looked around briefly before she said quietly, "Jurgen told me to inform you that he is working to get the paintings to a safer location, and that Seamus has had his and his mens' armory restocked."

The Cleric breathed a sigh of relief at the information, but frowned when she noticed that Mary refused to look her in the eyes. Normally a strong and confident woman, it wasn't like her to avoid eye contact.

"Why do I feel a 'but' coming on?" she questioned, looking back and forth between her two friends.

Karla's dark chocolate brown eyes looked away from hers briefly before returning, a saddened expression on her face. "But in case things fall through and Preston discovers the location of Seamus and the paintings before they are all moved, you are not to give him any reason to believe that you are a Sense Offender, even if that means firing on Rebels. Jurgen has already spoken to Seamus and his team about it and if it comes down to a fight they are to fire on you to make it look like nothing is out of place."

All relief left her body, replaced with sorrow and dread. She hated herself after shooting Rebels, and though those in the Underground said they understood why she had to do it, she caught glimpses of their hate aimed towards her before it was replaced by guilt and they looked away. She didn't blame them.

"There's more to it," she summed up, still watching Mary who looked about ready to cry. "What aren't you telling me?"

Mary chewed on her lower lip before releasing a shaky breath, and said, "Errol went to talk to Jurgen about the problem, and…" she took a deep breath. "And Errol has decided that he's going to try to throw Preston off your trail by dropping hints that he's a Sense Offender."

Alice stared at her in disbelief. Partridge couldn't take the fall for her! He was her friend, he had Mary… he just couldn't do that.

"Jurgen tried to talk sense into him, but Partridge wouldn't listen," Karla added. "Said that he was better off dead than you."

That wasn't true, and no one was dying to protect her sorry ass for a mistake she made.

The Cleric went up to Mary and gave her friend a brief hug. "It won't come to his death, I promise."

The slightly older woman returned the hug and nodded, fighting back tears as they pulled away before anyone saw them.

Forcing down her anger and frustration, she asked with authority when she noticed people starting to walk by, "Will that be all?"

"Yes, Cleric," replied Karla while Mary simply nodded, and the three of them went their separate ways.

It was a good thing she'd taken the time to exercise when she did to vent some of her emotions, because as it was Alice struggled to maintain a casual pace but she desperately needed to speak with Partridge before she went to find John. She couldn't allow him to take the fall for her. If anyone deserved death, she did if only for the things she'd done to keep her secret safe. He had more to live for than she did.

Inside the Grammaton headquarters, she spotted the man on her mind hiding behind a pillar in the shadows, and she knew instantly what he was doing.

"Put that thing away!" she hissed, and he hastily shoved the photo into his pocket. Dipping into the shadows with him, she demanded quietly, "What they hell do you think you're doing, taking the fall for me?"

The man sighed, leaning back against the pillar. "You know as well as I do that it's for the best."

"The hell I do!" she snapped.

"You do, and don't you dare tell me otherwise, Alice," he insisted, barely keeping his voice down. "The Resistance trusts you more than they trust me. As terrible as it is, you are willing to kill them to protect them when you need to even though you hate it, and even though they hate it, they understand and that has earned you their respect. I keep slipping up and risking their safety. They _need _you, Alice."

"But…"

"No, you know I'm right."

The young woman bit her lip, hating that he was right. Still, she shook her head. "It won't come to your death."

He chuckled shakily. "I certainly hope not, but I'm willing to pay the price of death."

"Mary might disagree with you," she pointed out sadly.

A look of sorrow flashed over his face and he looked away. He loved Mary just as she loved him, it was as clear as day and the main reason why they never spoke to each other or saw each other when not paying a visit to the Underground. There would be no way that they could keep the love off their faces.

"She and I discussed it last night," he sighed quietly. "She's upset to say the least, but she trusts my decision and trusts you."

Alice just stared at him. "You're seriously going to get yourself killed and hurt her like that just so my cover isn't blown?"

"If our roles were reversed, would you not do the same for me?"

Alice said nothing, because the answer didn't need to be said. She would give her life for his if their roles were reversed in a heartbeat, because sometimes one death was necessary to save many more.

Partridge lightly tapped her hand with his fingers, and her eyes watered. Such as simple act, and yet it meant so much. He was one of her closest friends, and at any given time he could decide to lead John onto believe that he is the traitor rather than she.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but in the distance she heard one of the guards greet John as he entered and they quickly but casually walked out of the shadows to meet their friend.

"Good morning, Partridge, Corvin" John greeted when they came into sight.

A smile threatened to come to her lips despite the ache in her heart. Not once did he ever refer to her or Partridge by their first names, the act too personal. She often made the mistake of calling him by his first name, a slip she didn't make with anyone else. If John noticed the slip, he never mentioned it.

"Are there any new developments in regards to the location of the paintings?" Alice asked, she and Partridge following him to his desk.

John nodded. "I was at evidence lockup studying the items we found at Miller's home to see if I missed something," he explained, pulling up a map of the Nether on his computer. "All this time we've been looking at chemicals and traces microscopic in size that we've overlooked the simplest of things."

"And what's that?" asked Partridge, a nervous tone lacing his words that made John pause momentarily before shaking it off.

"Smell," he replied confidently.

That wasn't what she'd expected to hear. "Smell?"

"Yes." He tapped on the eastern sector where the shopping center was located on his computer. "Any time we've had to perform a raid there everything has smelled of perfume, flowers, and other forms of emotion inducing materials, and when we were last there four months ago we all returned smelling like the perfume and it took more than a few showers to wipe away the scent. These letters and paintings didn't smell in the slightest."

Her stomach turned into knots as she summed it all up. "That leaves the apartment complex in the north."

"That's where the Rebels are storing their paintings. They didn't want to risk the smell leading us to them, so they set up camp in a place with few scents."

It was true, that was why they'd kept the paintings in the apartments. They never expected the plan to blow up in their faces.

"When do we make our move?" she asked, praying she had enough time to warn her friends.

John looked her in the eyes, hazel meeting green. "Now."

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_**Reviews are welcomed. In fact, they're encouraged!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_**Just got the movie on Blu-Ray, and let me just say that the picture quality is so much better than the quality of the DVD. **_

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On average, when it was discovered that EC-10 materials were being housed in the Nether, the Grammaton Cleric's leading the raid would thoroughly go over the plan with law enforcement and set a schedule to carry out the raid within two to four hours so that the operation went smoothly.

Not this time.

Despite witnessing them taking their intervals, John suspected that the traitor was either Alice or Partridge and thus he couldn't risk giving them even a second to contact the Resistance and warn them of the coming raid. The two had seemed equally shocked at the lack of time to prepare, and while Alice appeared nervous for a fraction of a second, she quickly recovered and wore a typical neutral expression. The same could not be said for Partridge. A look of dread had flashed over his face and didn't vanish until a few seconds had passed, and even then he refused to look him in the eye. There was no denying that one of the two he sat in the car with was the traitor. He just couldn't be sure which.

Alice displayed traits of being a Sense Offender on occasion; giving him a smile when one wasn't expected, using his first name, and other things. But she also killed Rebels and took her interval.

Partridge displayed traits in a more profound manner and didn't always hide the emotional expressions or tone right away, and he couldn't recall the last time he'd seen him kill a Rebel. But he always took his interval and repeatedly examined evidence just to be thorough.

The first class Cleric's gut had always proven correct in the past, but this time he just didn't know.

In the middle seat, his young protege double checked both her weapons, making sure they were in proper working condition. She didn't always expect trouble, but she always said it was better to be safe than sorry and made it a habit to check her weapons prior to leaving, in the car, and upon returning to headquarters. He made sure his weapons were always in functioning at optimal capacity, but he didn't look them over quite as much as she did. As he was the only one who handled his weapons, there was no reason to check them twice before a raid and if they were fine the first time he checked they would most certainly be fine if he checked them a second time.

As unnecessary as it was, he was proud that she took such great care of her weapons.

"The police have already been dispatched to the location, I assume?" asked Partridge upon noticing that they were not being followed by a tactical unit.

John nodded. "They'll start the raid; we'll finish it and find the contraband."

Returning her weapons to their holsters, Alice looked straight forward and said, "Considering the amount of art we've recovered from the city, it's safe to assume that we may run into heavy resistance."

"It's possible."

"Do you think we should split up?" she asked, looking in his direction. "They expect Cleric's to work in twos, not threes. You and Partridge take the ground floor, I'll take the top and we'll meet in the middle."

It wasn't a bad idea, but he normally kept her by his side to keep an eye on her. At twenty-four she was a well-established Cleric, skilled and respected, but she still had a lot to learn and he didn't want to risk her safety. Sooner or later, however, she was going to have to do things without his help. Better to let her go off on her own now while he was in the area rather than when he couldn't provide assistance.

"Take the fire escape to the top floor with police backup, and take out Rebels who resist," he advised, and she nodded in understanding as they pulled up to the apartment complex. Adjusting his gloves, John stepped out of the car when it came to a stop and held the door open for Alice before motioning for her to make her leave.

Giving him what could only be called a reassuring smile, she went to a group of waiting officers who then followed her to the back of the building where they would gain access to the top floor via the fire escape.

John stared after her.

That reassuring smile didn't reassure him of his suspicions.

Tearing his eyes off her, he looked to his reluctant partner before they made their way inside the apartment complex to assess the situation. From the sound of it, the police was already doing a sufficient job at neutralizing the threat, but he hoped they would at least leave a few alive to interrogate. Not that he expected them to talk anyways. When it came down to it, most Rebels and Sense Offenders knew that they would be processed whether they talked or not, so on averaged they stayed silent and revealed nothing.

The partners of many years walked through the main corridor of the complex and down the hall with perfect synchronization. It smelled musky and of gun smoke, so unlike the scentless air of Libria, but John hardly reacted to it. The smell wasn't good, be it garnered no reaction from him. He didn't like it or dislike it, it just was. Partridge on the other hand, though he tried to hide it, didn't appear to like it at all. It was possible that the unfamiliar smell was wreaking havoc on his senses at a physical level rather than an emotional one, so he paid it no mind for now.

At last they reached a cluster of police officers standing guard at the end of a hall by a closed door, armed and ready.

Upon seeing them, the officer in charged approached. "Cleric," he greeted neutrally. "Lights out. Maybe more than a dozen inside."

"When the doors down, blow the bulbs," John ordered coolly. A dozen men and women in the dark were mere practice, an easy challenge that he spent his life training for.

"Yes, sir." Turning to his men, the officer relayed the order and those by the door aimed their high powered shotguns at the hinges and knob while two others aimed at the lights in the hall.

John didn't bother telling his partner that he would handle the Rebels inside, knowing that he already knew. As the senior Cleric, it was his duty to make the first move in every raid, expected in fact. Partridge was merely backup in case things went south, and Alice was still being taught.

Removing his twin pistols from their holsters, he steadied his breathing, preparing himself for the coming fight. As sure of himself as he was, there was always a chance that he could be shot even with the intense training he had. Being the best didn't make him invincible. And when he was ready to make his move, he gave no warning. Instead, he charged towards the door as fast as he could, counting on the officers to do their part. They would, of course. There was no reason for them to hesitate.

Simultaneously, he jumped and kicked the door down as the officers shot the hinges and knobs, sliding a few feet inside before rising to his feet when the door stopped. The men and women hiding in the room opened fire but not a second had passed before the officers shot out the lights, blanketing him in darkness, the only sounds being the heavy breathing of the Rebels.

After a few tense seconds, a man in the darkness whispered nervously, "Where is he?"

"Shut up!" hissed another quietly from the opposite direction.

"Did anybody hit him?"

"Shut up!"

And he did shut up for a few seconds until he heard something shift in the center of the room. "Listen…"

At that exact moment, John opened fire. With intricate and precise movements, he took down each and every man and women in the room without managing to get shot as well. After years of practice, the act came as easily as breathing. He did keep his eyes closed though to avoid being blinded by the sudden light of his weapons.

Seconds after it started, it was over, and flashlights appeared from behind him as the officers and his partner entered the room. No one so much as blinked at the corpses because in truth, they didn't care. The death of the individuals had little to no impact on any of them. There was no remorse, no anger, nothing. They were bodies, nothing more.

Gunfire erupted from one of the floors above and John turned his eyes upward to the ceiling. A short while later, there was silence.

The radio of the officer in charged buzzed to life. "_All hostiles terminated, sir._"

Nodding to Partridge, the two made their way upstairs to regroup with Alice and complete the raid.

They didn't spot her until they reached the third floor, and they found her in a kitchen standing over a bearded man sitting at the table. A TV was on beside him and he had his hand on an old record player in an affectionate manner, a shotgun in his lap with his hand on it. And his eyes were closed as if he'd resigned himself to his fate, accepted it.

Alice held her pistol tightly in her hand, and her face betrayed nothing if she was feeling anything. But when she turned her eyes to John, there was no masking the pain. Quickly, she looked away and walked past him whilst putting away her weapon.

"He refused to surrender himself when I ordered him to place his hands behind his head," she explained, coldly, tightly. "I was left with no choice but to fire on him when he made a move for his weapon."

She sounded honest, but upon looking at the man, his hand was nowhere near the trigger.

He should have grabbed her, demanded to know if she was a Sense Offender, checked her dosage gun and sent a sweeper team to her home, but something in his chest stopped him from doing so. He could be mistaken. The man's hand might have slipped when she shot him. He didn't know.

Leaving the room, the two followed close behind him as he searched for the paintings. There were storage closets in which they could be housed, but he walked by them without a second glance. If he were a Sense Offender trying to hide what could be dozens or hundreds of paintings he wouldn't hide them in a room or someplace quite so obvious. He'd make alterations to the room in which he put them in. Various rooms went unchecked, not meeting his standards for a suitable hiding place.

And then he stopped at the doorway of a room further down the hall. The room was bare, save for an illegal rug in the center.

"This is it," he announced.

Partridge studied the room. "Where?"

He stared at the rug. "There."

As the officers entered the room and began peeling the floorboards away, Partridge excused himself with an anxious huff, pressing his back against the wall outside the room. A few officers stopped to stare at him for a long moment before looking at John. He too stared at his partner through narrowed eyes, as did Alice. Any suspicion he had towards her shifted to Partridge in that moment, but he had more pressing concerns at the moment.

The floorboards were tossed to the side and the illusive paintings were revealed. Among them was the Mona Lisa, regally laying atop the others and smiling ever so softly at them.

John stared at it and felt absolutely nothing for what was once held high among humans.

The chemist approached and preformed a series of scans before giving the Clerics a curt nod. "It's real."

Staring at it a second longer, he motioned for the fire squad to step forward and ordered in a monotone voice, "Burn it."

The squad did as ordered and sent a stream of fire at the once beloved paintings, scorching the Mona Lisa's face.

He glanced to the side at the young woman, and though he saw her tense, she made no move to stop the men from destroying the art. And when she noticed him staring at her, she gave him a nod of approval.

Satisfied with her reaction, more or less, he led her out of the room while the paintings burned to return to the car outside and fill out some of the most pressing paperwork before leaving. Behind them, Partridge lingered at the room after walking inside.

"Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary with Partridge?" John asked once outside.

Staring at him, leaning against the car, she shrugged. "As I'm sure you've noticed, he hasn't been the same over these past few months as he was the rest of the time we've known him. I'm not entirely sure if anything is wrong with him or not, but he's changed."

He watched her closely, searching for answers in her expression. Once he was certain, he confided in her his concerns. "I think Partridge may be the traitor in the Grammaton."

She gaped momentarily. "You're certain?"

"Do you know of someone else I should be looking at instead of him?" he asked, testing her.

Surely if she was the Sense Offender among the Grammaton Clerics she would defend him and take the blame.

After a moment's hesitation, she shook her head slowly. "No… now that I think about it, I admit that he seems to be the most likely candidate." She sounded reluctant, but she had effectively pointed the finger at Partridge.

Never had she led him astray before, so he didn't believe she would start now.

All that was left to do was make sure that his suspicions were correct and collect enough evidence to search his partner's apartment and arrest him. Even as he thought it, he didn't feel right.

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_**Reviews are welcomed. In fact, they're encouraged!**_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_**For those of you who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story, thank you very much! I'm glad you're enjoying it and giving it a chance!**_

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What contents had been in Alice's stomach prior to the raid were purged the moment she reached her home. She'd hardly made it to her bathroom later that night before the overwhelming amount of emotions raging within her struck her physically, causing her to vomit until her throat was sore.

She'd killed Seamus, one of her closest friends, and he'd just sat there with his eyes closed and allowed her to do so. The police had been far enough away that she whispered for him to run, but he refused to put her at risk and knew that he'd be caught and killed either way. And if he was going to be killed, he'd wanted it to be at her hands rather than another's. He knew that she at least would care.

And she did care, so much so that she could hardly catch her breath while she sobbed, collapsing onto her rear beside the toilet and pulling her legs up to her chest.

Her parents had helped smuggle illegal items into Libria, but had not officially been a part of the Resistance, choosing instead to get the items from a third party to avoid direct contact with them. But after their death and upon watching her for a long time, Jurgen had sent Seamus to make contact with her and extend a formal invitation to join the Resistance. After seeing her parents burn, she'd accepted and he'd thus taken her to the Underground.

Not many trusted her for a long time, but he did. They both understood what many others did not – that sometimes one had to do something they hated, something that would damn their soul, to keep others safe. For a short while a few years ago they were together romantically, and they'd been relatively happy. It didn't last, though. A raid deep in the Nether almost crippled the Resistance two years ago, and it had been led by Cleric John Preston. The Resistance already knew of him and feared him for good reason, so they were incredibly concerned and shaken after the news of the damaging raid reached the Underground.

Alice had attended a meeting the night after with Jurgen, Seamus, Karla, and a handful of others to discuss what to do, and to her horror Seamus suggested that they kill John and end the problem right then and there. After all, he was the highest ranking Cleric. The worst part was that he wanted her to be the one to kill him since she was the one closest to John.

Jurgen had assured her that he wouldn't make her kill John and that they weren't foolish enough to assassinate a Grammaton Cleric, but she was beyond hearing him, enraged that her boyfriend would tell her to do such a thing.

The couple entered into a yelling match, shouting anything that would push the others buttons and arguing over why she refused to kill him. It was then that he accused her of having more feelings for John than she did for him, and she'd slapped him hard across the cheek, ending their relationship without a single word.

It had taken weeks for them to be able to have a civilized conversation, but upon Karla's insistence they sat down to talk to each other and made their peace and apologized for what they said. But they never rekindled their relationship, and the more she thought about it the more she believed that he may have been right. She did care about John a great deal, more than she should. Perhaps subconsciously, even then, she had cared about him more than Seamus and that had been why she wouldn't kill him. She didn't have the heart to kill John.

But she did kill Seamus, and she might as well have killed Partridge as well.

Another sob tore through her and she dropped her forehead to her knees, raking her fingers through her hair, free of its bun.

When John had asked her about Partridge, she'd had no choice but to tell him the truth. Everyone had decided that she was more important whether she believed it or not, and if she'd allowed him to believe that she was a Sense Offender Seamus's death would have been for nothing and she would have in a sense betrayed them. And so she told him that he'd been acting differently, and when he asked if there was someone else he should be looking at as a traitor she'd told him no and that it was likely Partridge. Later on after he returned from speaking with Vice-Counsel DuPont of the Tetragrammaton Council, she'd helped him review footage of Partridge and gather evidence against him. The end result was John, Brandt, herself, and a police squad heading into the Nether to confront him. Even though John had insisted on speaking with him alone and had been the one to shoot him, Alice felt as though she might as well have been the one to pull the trigger.

When she finally thought she could move without getting sick, she shakily rose to her feet and brushed her teeth then splashed some cold water onto her face. She leaned forward on her elbows for a long moment, gathering herself as silent tears made their way down her cheeks.

Reaching into her jacket pocket, she retrieved the three real vials of Prozium and set them on the counter before kneeling on the floor by the trashcan. Carefully, she pulled one of the tiles from the floor, revealing a week's worth of intervals, and placed the three vials with the rest. Once a week on trash day, she would place the vials in a bag and smash them beneath her boot before mixing them with the rest of the trash in her home and taking it out to be disposed of. It was risky, keeping such a large quantity around, but she really didn't have much of a choice.

After returning the tile, she lifted another a foot away that hid the vials of colored saline and placed them into her dosage gun for the next day.

Sighing, running her hand down her face, she made her way to the kitchen to get herself a late night dinner. She wasn't hungry but had to keep up her strength, so she made herself the customarily bland diner that all Librians made and forced herself to eat. She longed to go to the Underground and gorge herself in some of Karla's heavily spiced cooking, but she was too scared to show her face for a while.

Dinner took far too long to eat and had gone cold rather quickly, so when she took the last bite she sat back with a relieved sigh, contemplating on what to do next.

She looked at the clock and groaned, her head falling back so she could stare at the ceiling. It was only a little past ten at night. Going into the Nether to take in the comfort of her illegal possessions was too risky after a Cleric was just put down for Sense Offence. Sleep was out of the question, at least for a while, so that left very little for her to do. Any book she had was censured and altered by the Tetragrammaton, and was thus a boring read. She could push through a series of crunches or pushups to try to wear herself out. It might actually help her vent some of the remaining emotions tugging at her heart as well.

Just as she was about to get up and change into some sweats to workout in, her phone rang.

Hurrying to her feet, she took a few breaths and answered the phone in a monotone voice, "Cleric Corvin."

"Hi, Alice," said the soft voice of eight-year-old Lisa Preston.

In the midst of the sorrow and anger flowing through her system, Alice smiled. "Hey, sweetie. Why are you calling? Is everything okay?" One of the benefits of being a Cleric meant that neither her calls nor Johns were recorded or traced.

"Yeah," Lisa replied with a yawn. "Dad went to bed as soon as he got home, and Robbie's sitting here with me, but I can't sleep. Can you sing to me?"

She sighed, torn between doing so and telling her she couldn't. Sometimes when John was going to be later returning home she would stop by to check on his children and would often sing Lisa to sleep after helping the kids with their homework. Rarely did she sing to her over the phone since there was always the chance that John could walk in and see his daughter on the phone committing a Sense crime. But she couldn't say no to the girl she considered a daughter.

"All right, kiddo," she relented. "Get comfy and I'll sing to you. What do you want to hear?"

"Umm, _Hush, Little Baby_," she replied, shuffling around on the other end of the phone as she got comfortable. "I like that one."

"_Hush, Little Baby _it is then." Waiting a few seconds, she asked, "Ready?"

"Yeah."

Taking a sip of her glass of water, feeling as though her voice was still hoarse from sobbing, she took a steadying breath before she started to softly sing Lisa's request.

"_Hush, little baby, don't say a word,_  
_Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird._

_If that mockingbird won't sing,_  
_Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring._

_If that diamond ring turns brass,_  
_Mama's going to buy you a looking glass._

_If that looking glass gets broke,_  
_Mama's going to buy you a billy goat._

_If that billy goat won't pull,_  
_Mama's going to buy you a cart and bull._

_If that cart and bull turn over,_  
_Mama's going to buy you a dog named Rover._

_If that dog named Rover won't bark,_  
_Mama's going to buy you a horse and cart._

_If that horse and cart fall down,_  
_You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town._

_So, hush, little baby, don't you cry,_  
_Daddy loves you and so do I._"

Silence followed and she worried on her lower lip.

Lisa was John's daughter; by all rights he should love her. But the Prozium prevented him from feeling that emotion and thus she couldn't say with certainty that he actually loved his daughter. It wasn't his fault, of course, but it was still sad. His children had never known a parent's love, and even through their mother had been a Sense Offender it wasn't until after her death that they ceased taking their Prozium, and thus they hadn't been able to understand her love. Alice wasn't their mother, but she was all they really had emotionally since her death.

"She's asleep," Robbie whispered into the phone, pulling her from her thoughts. "She always falls asleep when you sing to her."

"Glad I could help." Looking at the clock, she added, "You should go to sleep too, Robbie. It's getting late."

"I will," the young boy assured her, but then he hesitated. "Alice… Dad said that Partridge was a Sense Offender and that he shot him."

A lump formed in her throat and she replied, "I'm afraid so."

"I liked Partridge," he sighed sadly.

"Yeah, me too."

"I think he was upset about it," he commented thoughtfully, succeeding in gaining her full attention.

Leaning against her hip on the counter, she asked, "What makes you say that?"

"He hesitated when I asked him if I should report a boy I saw crying, and tensed when I asked how work was," he explained. "It was hardly noticeable, but I saw it."

Alice pinched the bridge of her nose, pushing down the flicker of hope in her heart. "Robbie," she started slowly. "You have to remember that your father is oddly empathetic despite the Prozium. Sometimes he mimics feelings to see how one will react."

"Maybe." Robbie let out a long breath. "I'm going to go to bed."

"All right. Goodnight, buddy."

"Goodnight, Alice." Seconds later, he hung up.

The young Cleric stared at the phone for several seconds, think about what Robbie said. As much as she wanted to believe that John was beginning to feel, it just wasn't likely. Either he would cease taking his interval because of her or dumb mistake, that was what everyone believed, and he did not make mistakes, and if he knew that she was a Sense Offender he would come after her. He was likely just testing his son, something he did on occasion.

Rubbing the back of her neck, she went into her bare bedroom to change into her sweats to exercise and ware herself out.

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_**Reviews are welcomed. In fact, they're encouraged!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **_**This is where alternations in the timeline and events of the movie start taking place, so if things seem incorrect in regards to the timeline that's because I've intended for it to be. **_

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Morning came far too soon for John, and upon hearing the alarm on his watch and Father's voice outside, he sat up slowly, releasing a heavy sigh as his sleep glazed eyes turned towards the adjoining bed that had belonged to Viviana. Once again he dreamt of his long dead spouse. He never had that dream when he killed Rebels, only Sense Offenders. Partridge was a Sense Offender, and had thus triggered the dream.

"_I assume you dream, Preston," _Partridge had said before he killed him.

He did dream, but he never spoke of them, unsure if it was normal to dream even while on Prozium. The dream of Viviana was just one of the many he'd had over the past few years. Sometimes he dreamed of the people he killed, sometimes of past events, sometimes he even dreamed of Alice. The dreams surrounding his young protege always shook him in a way he didn't understand and dared not ask her about. They were too… personal.

Shaking off the effects of the troubling dream, John got out of bed and shuffled to his simple bathroom – done in dark grey tones with and nothing more than what was needed – to go through his morning routine.

For a moment he just stood there, staring at his reflection. He looked tired, despite the amount of sleep he'd gotten. Pulling out his dosage gun, he took out his morning vial and set it on the counter before splashing some water onto his face to wake himself up. Grabbing the grey towel, he wiped his face and set it back down so he could brush his teeth when he heard the small crash of glass breaking.

He turned his attention to the floor and stared at the broken vial of Prozium, perplexed.

"What are you doing?"

John turned to find his son walking down the hallway, watching him closely and already dressed for school.

"I said," the boy started tightly. "What are you doing?"

"I accidentally dropped my morning interval," he explained, stunned that he'd actually done so. His lips turned upward out of reflex at his stupid mistake. "I took it out before I brushed my teeth. I never take it out before I brush my teeth."

Robbie didn't make a move, only stared at him sharply, and said, "Then you'll go by Equilibrium, log the loss, and get a replacement."

He nodded immediately. "Yes, of course."

After watching him a moment later, his son nodded, satisfied with the answer, and made his leave to the kitchen.

Once he was alone again, he cleaned up the gold colored liquid and glass before resuming his morning routine, altered by the mistake.

When at last he was dressed in his black uniform, he went to the kitchen to eat the breakfast he ate with his children every day. The only one at the table who ate something different was Lisa, and she sat with her chin in her hand and stirred her nutritious brown, flavorless cereal with milk that was all but void of flavor as well. She looked almost bored, a stark contrast to his son who sat reading one of his text books intently, jotting down notes on the sheet of paper beside him.

He took a seat and picked up the newspaper that Robbie had set out for him, reading the report of yesterday's raid in the Nether as well as the death of his former partner. The paper almost held John as a hero, and that didn't sit well with him in the slightest. It didn't feel… right.

"I took the liberty of calling Corvin," Robbie began, bringing John's attention to him. "As she always goes to Equilibrium for her weeks' worth of Prozium early Sunday mornings, I thought it best to ask her how the lines were since you've yet to dose. She said that the lines are terrible due to a terrorist threat, but that if you were to find a guard and explain that your morning interval was accidentally lost and have yet to take it you should be able to move to the front of the line."

The first class Cleric hesitated momentarily. He wished that Robbie hadn't called Alice to inform her of the incident since it was none of her business. The only ones who needed to know were the workers at the Equilibrium facilities, as well as the Council and Father if they saw fit to check on how often he went to refill his dosage gun. And after his questioning of traitors in the Grammaton, what would Alice think of his sudden loss of a morning interval? More importantly, why did it bother him so much?

Rather than scold his son, he gave him the expected smile, "Thank you."

He didn't need to dwell on why it bothered him, because he more or less knew why. He hadn't taken a dose since yesterday evening and thus always felt something in the mornings just before taking his morning dose. Since he was unable to take the dose yet, the illegal feelings were growing more pronounced by the second. The sooner he reached Equilibrium, the better he would be.

And so he hastily finished his breakfast and made his leave to one of the towering buildings that stood almost as a symbol in Libria. If there was a place held high in the city, it was the Equilibrium facilities. They were all dark and mighty in appearance, and yet they drew Librians in because of the sanity and order they offered with Prozium. But to John, it wasn't so welcoming. Not this time. No, this time he hesitated before walking in as something dark settled in his gut and warned him not to, and he had to force himself to proceed, telling himself that the _feeling _he felt would disappear the moment he injected himself after getting his replacement.

Outside, a voice from a loudspeaker informed the public that due to recent terrorist activity, all seeking to renew their Prozium or seek replacements should move to the next building. The one he was standing outside of.

Multiple lines extended out the doors and onto the sidewalk, but there was no chaos. Everyone but John waited patiently. He supposed he could have taken Alice's advice and gone to a guard to get moved to the front, use his authority as a first class Cleric to do so if needed, but he didn't. Instead of trying to move to the front of the line, he stayed where he was, unable to will himself to move from the line and get his interval quicker.

As he stood waiting, he saw a familiar face exit the building, and when she caught sight of him, she walked over.

"Good morning, Preston," Alice greeted politely, looking incredibly tired.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Good morning."

Looking at the line he was standing in, she said, "I'm sure you could reach the front quicker if you were to inform someone of who you are."

"I, uh… I'd rather wait in line," he said, stammering ever so slightly. When a frown found its way to her lips, he quickly explained, "By using my authority to proceed to the front, I throw off the balance. It's better if I just wait."

She stared at him in what looked to be confusion aimed at his uncharacteristic nervousness. "I suppose that makes sense," she admitted slowly, not entirely satisfied with his answer.

Wanting to get the focus off himself, he looked to the dosage gun she held in one gloved hand and the small case she held in the other. "I see you got your weeks' worth."

"Yes, though I had to wait for nearly half an hour to get it," she replied, looking at the small carrying case for the vials thoughtfully, and… with disgust.

He'd never been at Equilibrium at the same time as she and had never seen her look at the case that way before. It was disturbing to say the least.

Alice shifted from foot to foot before looking at her watch. "I should be going," she said hastily, already backing away. "I will call you if I see anything suspicious." Since there were no scheduled raid, no paperwork, and no known Sense Offenders for them to arrest they were to patrol the city, to be a watchful eye until they were called.

Watching her closely, he nodded, and she hurried off without saying goodbye. That wasn't like her.

John turned his attention back to the line he was in for a long moment before leaving it and following Alice at a distance. She didn't smile at him like she always did, nor did she say goodbye in her soft way. Her odd behavior wasn't something he could ignore, not this time.

Occasionally the young woman would glance around to see if she was being followed, at which time he would disappear into some shadows until she stopped looking around. Paranoia was not a trait of the normal Librian citizen who was on Prozium, but Alice was most definitely acting paranoid. He couldn't help but wonder if there had not merely been one traitor in the Grammaton, but two.

Alice displayed all the characteristics of a Sense Offender, and she had displayed them for years. Where others might flinch when a gun is fired but not react, she would make the faintest move for her gun in fear for her life or the lives of others. Where others smiled because it was expected, she smiled because something she felt made her smile, there was feeling behind it. Only close family members called each other by their first names, but she called him by his on more than one occasion. She felt, and he'd let her get away with it for years when he knew that he should arrest her for reasons he didn't understand. He didn't want to believe that she was a Sense Offender and had thus made excuses in his mind to defend her actions. But now he had to get to the bottom of things.

After walking for a good ten minutes, Alice finally slowed her pace and walked into a heavily shadowed alleyway. A few seconds later, a woman of Hispanic origin walked towards the same alleyway, looking around cautiously before entering. The woman wasn't someone he recognized right off hand, so she hadn't been suspected of Sense Offense and her file had never passed by his desk.

John didn't proceed to follow her in, but waited far enough away that he wouldn't draw attention and watched to see what would happen.

It felt like hours had passed but it couldn't have been longer than a minute before the woman walked out followed by Alice. She was readjusting her Prozium case and adjusted her jacket, her hand lingering over her left pocket when she started down the street again towards her home, and the pieces started to fall into place.

He'd seen her inject herself with Prozium on multiple occasions and it had been one of the reasons he'd told himself that she wasn't a Sense Offender. But maybe she hadn't been injecting herself with Prozium. Maybe it was something else.

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Every single time Alice went from Equilibrium to meet Karla to pick up the vials of colored saline she felt as though she were being watched. If anyone caught her, she'd be put to death before she could explain her case. But no one ever caught her because no one suspected her of Sense Offence. So when she felt the familiar feeling of eyes on her back, she thought nothing of it and continued to her home. If she stopped to investigate that feeling it would take her hours to get home. For six years she met Karla to pick up the false vials, and for six years she never had any trouble.

It would do her no good to become paranoid now.

The walk to her apartment took about twenty minutes, give or take, and in the back of her mind she wished that she could just take off running so that she could get there faster and fill her dosage gun with the saline and hide the Prozium in the drain of her shower. By the end of the week she would be able to smash the unused Prozium and dump it in the trash.

Biting back a sigh, she pressed on, hoping the rain held off for at least a little while. She loved the rain but she didn't want to walk in it, especially with no umbrella. The feel of the rain on her skin always filled her with a sense of peace. It was as though the rain was washing away all the terrible things she'd done. If it were to start raining now she wasn't sure she could hide her feelings to the public eye.

She at least reached her apartment, feeling as though it had been forever, but when she neared the stairs she heard footsteps behind her and she drew to a pause. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw no one, heard nothing. She shook her head and continued up the steps to the third floor where her apartment was located. Her paranoia was going to be the death of her. For all she knew it was just another tenant.

Coming up to her apartment, she took her I.D card out of her jacket pocket and swiped it in front of the scanner, unlocking and opening the door. But just as she was about to step inside the safety of her home, loud footsteps stormed towards her and before she could react she was grabbed roughly by her elbow and shoved inside, her attacker following her in.

Alice spun around, ready to fight, but could only stare in shock when she realized it was John.

"Preston?" she asked, perplexed, heart racing a mile a minute. "What is the meaning of this?"

John walked towards her, and she reacted by stepping back. "I followed you after you left Equilibrium."

Alice's heart stopped dead. "Why?" she asked, trying to conceal her growing fear.

"You didn't act like you normally do," he replied tightly. "Every time you're around me, you smile. Every time you walk away, you nod goodbye or say it. This time, you just hurried off. And the way you looked at your Prozium…"

"I was tired from waiting in line for so long," she explained feebly, but he shook his head.

"I've ignored everything you've done that's questionable. Your smiling, your use of my first name, the way you act when I have EC-10 materiel burned, and when Rebels are killed," he bit out. But that wasn't possible. He couldn't feel.

"This is ridiculous, what are you – " she started.

"What did that woman give to you in the alley?"

The young woman snapped her mouth shut, knowing she'd been caught.

John pressed forward, backing her closer and closer towards a corner, and repeated, "What did that woman give you? Show me."

Alice glanced at the door behind him, then back to John. Acting on instinct, she lashed out, landing a solid kick to his chest and sending him back a few feet. Plenty of room for her to try to make a run for it.

She didn't make it far, however.

He recovered quickly and lunged for her, blocking all of her defensive attacks with ease. Fighting the man who trained her wasn't what she'd had in mind when she woke up, and she couldn't say she was optimistic about her odds of beating him. She was better when it came to hand to hand combat, but she was afraid and desperate. He had the advantage emotionally wise. And he took that advantage by grabbing her wrist in a vice-like grip when she threw a punch at him, twisted it around to where she yelped in pain, and kicked her legs out from under her, forcing her to the ground. He never released her wrist and pinned her down with his weight on her hips, holding her wrist in a painfully awkward angle above her head and he reached for his gun with his free hand, pressing the barrel to her head.

"Who was the woman you met with in the alley?" he hissed in her face… angrily.

She stared at him in confusion, unsure if he was tricking her by feigning emotion. "No."

"Tell me!" he snapped loud enough to make her jump beneath him.

Defiantly, she shook her head and said quietly, "I'm a Sense Offender. I'm dead whether I tell you or not. And since I'm not going to drag anyone else down with me, you might as well just shoot me now because there's no chance in hell I'm going let you burn me alive, John."

The gun clicked as he readied to pull the trigger, and despite her certainty that she'd rather die by a bullet to the head than by being burned alive, she didn't want to die and squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn't the way she thought she would go, but it was oddly fitting that John would be the one to end her. He'd accepted her as a possible Cleric when they were both children, took it upon himself to train her, and so it was only natural, she supposed, that he would then kill her. But even if it was fitting, it broke her heart. He was her closest friend, and maybe if he could feel she would be his friend as well. But neither would ever know.

A few tears betrayed her further by slipping from beneath her closed eyes, and she waited for him to pull the trigger.

Rather than shooting her, John shocked her into snapping her eyes open when he set the gun down and used his now bare hand to timidly wipe away the tears that she let slip, and stared at her in a mix of fascination and pain. The action was so gentle that she could hardly feel it, and she looked at him in utter confusion.

He caught the look and bolted off of her, turning his back to her and looking at a white wall.

Alice slowly sat up, rubbing her sore wrist, and got to her feet.

"John? What…?" It was then that it hit her, and she gaped. "You're feeling, aren't you?"

Inclining his head towards her slightly, he nodded. "I didn't go into Equilibrium to replace my dose. I followed you instead."

With the long gap between the evening dose and the morning dose, it was absolutely imperative that one take their next interval first thing in the morning before the emotions hit them. Even putting off the interval for half-an-hour in the morning was risky and the suppressed feelings would emerge rather quickly despite the short time-frame.

"You could have taken your evening dose," she pointed out. "It would have been stronger, but you wouldn't have had any problems. Why forgo taking it only to walk out of line when you knew you needed it?"

Idly, he trailed his fingers along the smooth top of her table, shoulders tense. "I don't know. It was as if…" He sighed, shaking his head.

"As if something in your heart was telling you not to take it, no matter how much you knew you should?" she asked gently, remembering what it was like when she first ceased taking Prozium.

John at last looked at her with a look of confusion and fear, and he nodded. "How long since you last dosed?"

"Six years," she replied.

"Six? You've been lying to me for six years?"

A slight smile tugged at her lips, and she said, "Come on, John. We both know that if I told you, you would have had me arrested immediately. The only thing making you hesitate now is the fact that you're feeling and you know it would be wrong."

He frowned. "How is feeling right? With it comes war, murder –"

"Friendship, individuality," she added, interrupting him. Cautiously, she took a few steps towards him. "On Prozium, we're just shells. Don't you see that?"

"No," he murmured, shaking his head adamantly. "We can't live like this. Prozium… it's our only option."

"I'll never take Prozium again," she stated firmly. "I'll die before I do."

"Alice…" he hesitated when she flashed him a small smile. "What?"

"That's the first time you've called me Alice," she replied, and he looked away.

Sighing, she tugged off her gloves and set them on the table before taking his bare hand in her smaller one, wanting to establish skin to skin contact, knowing how it could establish a feeling of connection of some sort.

John started and stared down at their joined hands, and he looked like he would yank his hand back at any second if she made the wrong move. So she waited and allowed him time to adjust to the foreign feelings she saw going across his face and hazel eyes. After a few tense seconds, he surprised her by lightly squeezing her hand before pulling back her sleeve to examine her swelling wrist. Guilt flashed across his eyes, but she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and half smile.

"One day," Alice whispered, drawing his attention back to her face. "Just go one day without taking Prozium. If by tomorrow morning you still think it's best to conform and want to suppress your feelings by taking the drug, go ahead, and I'll let you arrest me."

"You'd honestly allow me to take you in?" When she nodded, he said incredulously, "You just told me you'd rather be shot than burned."

"Yeah, well, it couldn't hurt to show people that the Cleric isn't as prestigious as we're made out to be."

The man before her fell silent before asking, "Was it you or Partridge trying to throw me off the trail of the Resistance?"

"It was me," she said without hesitation, throat tight in memory of her recently killed friend. "But he was adamant about taking the blame."

John said nothing, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do. And then he nodded, and she felt as though she could breathe again.

"One day," he agreed tightly.

"One day is all you'll need," she said, disappointed when he finally pulled his hand from hers. "Just… make sure you hide your feelings today. It's not easy being a Sense Offender, especially when you're meant to arrest and kill those who are feeling." She sighed. "What I'm trying to say is be careful."

"I will," John assured her and put his glove back on before retrieving his weapon from the floor. He made his way to the door when he stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "Goodbye, Alice."

Giving him one last small smile, she replied, "Bye, John."

Without giving her another glance, he walked out her door, leaving her to wonder whether or not he would cease taking his Prozium altogether or if he would start back up again in the morning. For both their sakes, she hoped to God that he wouldn't take it ever again.

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_**Reviews are welcomed. In fact, they're encouraged! **_


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